Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 98264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
“Fuck it. Let’s set off the tornado sirens too.”
“Camden,” she hissed.
“Relax. Personally, I’m many years removed from giving a shit about what the Caskeys think anymore. But I’d never ask you to stay at my parents’. I don’t even stay there anymore. Not since after a few years back, when my aunt and uncle showed up with Jonathan for an impromptu Christmas visit. Or maybe it was just impromptu for me. Anyway, I told everyone if they stayed, then I wasn’t. So my parents gave me the keys to Dad’s old hunting cabin and told me to kick rocks. Now, if you want my opinion, it was pretty fucked up how, in that situation, I was the one who got the boot out of the house, but I never gave the keys back. On the rare occasion when I come back to Alberton, I always have a place I can stay. And now, long story short, you have a place to stay too.” I was out of breath by the time I finished talking, but Nora was back to smiling, so I figured it was time well spent.
“It’s good to see the growth hormones haven’t affected your long-winded ramblings.”
“I know. You’re in for a treat with all the stories I have in store for you tonight.”
“You know, on second thought, I think I left my stove on at home. I should go check on that.”
She took a step away, but I hooked her around the waist, picking her up like a football under my arm. “Nope. Too late to run now. I haven’t seen you in forever, and I’m not above kidnapping.”
“Put me down. I’m in a dress.” She laughed, slapping at my legs.
I tickled her with my free hand, and she squirmed so much I almost dropped her.
Suddenly, the side door swung open and my mom stepped out. “Camden, what in the world are you doing out here, making all that racket?”
I quickly righted Nora, and she turned into my chest to hide her face, something I hated but understood.
“Oh, hey, Mom. Sorry. Were we being too loud?”
“I’d say so. I was talking to the Worthingtons and heard you two all the way in the sanctuary.” She raked her gaze down Nora’s back. “Who’s your friend?”
Nora went rigid, and I gave her hip a reassuring squeeze. Regardless of the consequences, I would have loved nothing more than to turn her around, throw my arm around her shoulders, and introduce Nora with pride. However, I only had her for one night, and standing there was wasting precious time.
I smiled at my mom, holding her gaze as I dipped low and put my mouth to Nora’s ear. “Run.” Then I took off like a madman, pulling her right along with me.
“Camden!” Mom yelled at my back, but I barely heard it over Nora’s wild laughter.
Hand in hand, we raced to the parking lot.
When I broke left, she slowed down and pointed to the right. “My car is this way.”
“Just leave it. We’ll pick it up later.”
“My bag is in there.”
I tugged her hand. “I’ll loan you some clothes.” God, just the idea of her in one of my button-downs had my dick begging to be readjusted.
Her head fell to the side, and she argued, “I don’t even have a toothbrush.”
“Use mine.”
“Ew!” she whined, and I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Okay, okay, fine,” I huffed. “Let me just introduce you to my mom and then we can grab your bag and get out of here.”
Her eyes flashed comically wide, but it got her feet moving again—in my direction.
After digging the keys out of my pocket, I clicked the locks to my dad’s old Jeep. I paused only to yank her door open before running around to the driver’s side. We both dove in, panting and lost in hysterical laughter.
Drumming her hands on the dashboard, she shouted, “Go go go!”
Let’s be real. It wasn’t like my mom had chased us down or anything. The few people left in the parking lot hadn't even looked our way.
But I still threw my old Jeep into reverse and peeled out for no other reason than I was riding a high with Nora Stewart that I never wanted to come down from.
“You’re kidding, right?” Nora asked when I led her inside the cabin.
I hung my keys on the deer antler hooks next to the door and glanced back at her. “About what?”
“This is not”—she tossed me a pair of air quotes—“‘an old hunting cabin.’ You made it sound like we would be sleeping on squeaky floors and peeing in the woods.” She pointed across the room. “There’s a freaking pool table. I wouldn’t call this roughing it.”
I scanned the massive room, knowing exactly what she was talking about. Huge open layout. Leather sofa facing a fireplace. King-size bed facing another fireplace. Small kitchen with white-quartz countertops and stainless-steel appliances. Crown molding distressed to give it the illusion of being rustic, all while practically flashing dollar signs.